Little Bird
by Emmithar
Summary: Yet it would not be the only loss Robin would suffer, as the Lord of Locksley would soon learn about in the years to come. In fact, his losses had only begun.


**Little Bird**

**By: **Emmithar

**Rating: **K+

**Summary: **Yet it would not be the only loss Robin would suffer, as the Lord of Locksley would soon learn about in the years to come. In fact, his losses had only begun.

**A/N: **This is a stand-alone story that was originally meant to be a part of a longer series of one-shots. However, things went off on their own tangent, and that was forgotten, but I still had this part sitting around so I figured I would put it up.

Basically this takes place earlier in Robin's life before going off to the crusades. It was written before S3, (Yes, it's been that long!), so very obvious that nothing mentioned in 'Bad Blood' took place in my version.

* * *

**Little Bird**

Wednesday was market day, as it always was. She hated the fact that she had talked herself into coming. The streets were packed, every booth filled to the brim with goods and treasures to be sold. The aroma of food wafted in the air, beckoning to the hungry, and trinkets glittered in the sun, enticing the greedy. The dainty young girl moved about the crowed area with ease, almost as though it was something she was accustomed to.

But she was hardly a girl anymore, and in fact was on the verge of womanhood. Marian had believed that fact for quite some time now, but it was only recently that her father began to agree as well. His attentions had now turned from humoring her, to instructing her, attempting to groom her as a woman. That job was normally reserved for the mother of the family, but it was no secret that Marian's mother had died long ago.

She humored her father, just as he had humored her when teaching her to fight as a young girl. For her protection, he would say, but he would never tell her what it was supposed to protect her from. Nottingham was a quiet town, and she spent most of her time here in the busy streets since her father was the sheriff. Giving the choice though, she would spend it at home, back in Knighton. The small village was much more peaceful, giving a homely feel whereas the castle suggested nothing but work.

True, she had every heart's desire here in Nottingham. Her very own horse which she took for frequent rides, a personal stable boy that tended to her creature when she was not riding him. A roomful of toys she used to love as a little girl, a full wardrobe of dresses. Indeed her father waited on her more than he should, perhaps an attempt to fill the empty void in her life.

If he ever took the time to understand what her life was really like. Marian loved her father, and there wasn't a doubt in her mind that said he didn't love her back. But sometimes he tried too hard to shape her into what he wanted, rather than what he had. Just like now.

She stopped by the open stand, her hand running over the fabrics they had to offer. Another new dress, for another occasion. Sometimes she wondered why her father wanted her to have so many. The money he had given her rested easily in the satchel by her side. It would be more than enough to pay for any dress that she chose.

"Anything the young lady sees?"

The man who owned the booth had finally acknowledged her, his hands clasped behind his back as he watched her closely. Business was a fickle thing, and not everyone would waste their time on someone as young as her. But he had seen her money purse, and knew that she could pay. This, of course, changed everything.

Marian held up a red dress, earning a nod from the man. "That one would fit you nicely. I have several more, over here of course."

"I do not have much money," she told him quickly, not wishing to spend any more time here than necessary.

"Very well," the man nodded, quoting off the price as he took the dress from her, wrapping it carefully in a simple bag to keep it protected from the dirt that was about. Marian dropped the coins in her hand, moving to pay him, but was stopped as the man laughed.

"This is the last one that I have of this kind," he told her sweetly, eyeing the money in her open hand. "The price has changed I fear, two-fold."

"What?" Marian shook her head unbelieving. "All your clothing is original; of course it is going to be the last one."

"It is the last red one my lady. Now pay up."

"You stated your price fairly," Marian informed him. "You only changed it upon seeing my money."

"No money, no dress."

"Problem?"

Marian let out an irritated sigh, barely glancing at the newcomer. "Nothing that I can't handle on my own, thank you very much."

"The lady and I are merely having a discussion in prices," the man answered, holding the dress still.

Robin glanced between the two of them, his face quiet as he thought. "Do you not have enough to pay?"

"I have enough," Marian cut him shortly. "He feels it is fair to change asking price because of the money I carry. He wants the price doubled now."

"You would lie to a lady?" Robin asked the man, earning a flustered glare.

"She lied to me about not having much money. I lowered it to be fair."

"Then remain fair," Robin told him sharply. "Your word is your reputation, and yet you would willingly wound it? Why? For a few extra coins? How many customers do you have return at all I wonder?"

"This is not a normal practice of mine," the man stuttered, shaking his head.

"Good," Robin nodded, reaching into his pocket. He tossed the coin to the man, reaching for the dress at the same time. "You have your money; now give us what we asked for."

Reluctantly the man handed it over, Marian taking it from Robin's hands shortly after. "I don't need you to rescue me."

"Good," Robin replied, following her away from the booth. "Because I don't intend to."

"Then what would you call that back there?"

"A distraction," he answered, "I wanted to see you."

"You've seen me," Marian informed him. "So?"

"You weren't at the Council of Nobles this morning."

"Should I have been?"

"You normally are. Your father said you were here…and that you were meeting with Gisborne tonight?"

"His idea," Marian stressed, holding back a sigh. Sometimes she wasn't sure why her father divulged her personal life to others so much.

"And you do everything your father tells you?" Robin wondered.

"No," she answered quickly. "I just humor him. Besides, Guy isn't that bad of a person, he's kind of nice if you get to know him."

"First name basis?"

Marian stopped, turning to face him. "Problem?"

"Should there be?"

"I don't know," Marian shrugged, "you tell me."

Robin let out a sigh, moving out into the open streets. Marian followed, clutching the dress against her chest. She knew that Robin was jealous, but he would never admit to it. He liked her, and truth be told she sort of fancied him, too. But her father was a different story. Robin had always been too arrogant for his tastes, too outspoken…too…unpredictable.

There was a lot in Robin's life that shaped who he was, and he wasn't afraid to stand up for himself. Marian admired that sort of courage, and often wished she too could have that kind of resolve. Guy on the other hand was quiet spoken, and though he had taken to adorning himself in all black, he was kinder to authority than Robin was, and had easily won over her father. If Robin had actually tried to do so, they might be in a different position.

They came to a stop out near the gate that led towards the forest, and the villages. Robin turned to her, a soft expression on his face. "Marian…don't go."

"Robin," she smiled at him. "It is just one evening."

"And one evening will turn into two," he pointed out.

"You do not have the authority to tell me what to do."

"I'm not telling," he responded quietly. "I'm asking."

She could feel her stomach tighten at the request, but she could not let her father down. He had been looking forward to this evening more than she had herself. Robin could see the answer on her face and he let out a sigh, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," she told him quietly, meaning it with every fiber of her being.

"I should go," he responded, turning to move, but Marian stilled him with her hand.

"Your mother, how is she doing?"

Robin's face fell at the question, and now Marian wished she hadn't asked. She had known about the woman's ailment for a time now, but Robin never spoke about it openly. Robin hardly ever talked about what he felt or what he thought, keeping everything locked away inside of him instead.

"She is getting weaker with each passing day."

"Go to Knighton Hall, ask for Sarah. She's always tended me when I was ill. She is skilled. Tell her that I sent you, that it's a personal favor."

"I already have a physician," Robin told her, shaking his head. "None of us are meant to stay on this world forever."

"I know how you feel," she sympathized with him, referring to her own loss, but he was quick in cutting her off.

"How?"

"I lost my mother," Marian replied.

"And I lost my father," Robin pointed out angrily. "At least you still have yours. When my mother leaves, I will have no one."

She gave him a sad smile, placing a hand on his arm. "That's not true…you'll have me."

He closed his eyes for but a moment, meeting her gaze in the next with his own smile, quietly thanking her. Gently he held her hand, pressing his lips against her skin before he bid his farewell, leaving the town and her behind him.

* * *

Truth be told, Robin had not wanted to go to the Council of Nobles that morning. Throughout the night his mother's illness had taken a turn for the worse. There was little anyone could do for her, and though passing from this world to the next would probably be a blessing, it did not make it any easier for Robin to bear.

It had been months since this ailment had taken upon itself to attack her. They were small signs, one that would go unnoticed to most if they didn't pay attention. She was tired earlier in the nights, and slept in later on the mornings. A bout of fever would keep her in bed longer, and her appetite would dwindle. By the time he knew something was wrong, it had already been too late.

Robin was nearly sixteen then. In that time of age he was well considered an adult, and had been referred to Lord of Locksley for some time now. The servants, of course, had always referred to him as Master Robin, ever since he was just a young child, but for the last passing years it had carried more weight, and he knew that burden would only become harder to bear within the coming future.

It was his mother that gave him most of his guidance, helping him find his way in the world, and though Robin knew that she would one day follow his father to heaven, the man had never thought it would be so soon.

Returning to the village he quickly handed his outerwear and furs to Thornton, inquiring to her state. There was a sad shake of the man's head and Robin nodded back sadly, not having to speak any words.

The way up the stairs was short, but seemed to last for an eternity, each step only seeming to put his destination off even further. Quietly he took a breath as he reached the top, giving himself a moment to compose himself as he entered the room.

The physician he had hired had been one of the best in Nottingham. For all the years his mother had provided for him, and kept him safe, he would return the favor as best as he could. Things were not always pleasant in the Locksley household, even more so after his father's death, but Robin knew that she had tried. And her love for him was real; never once had she ever doubted him, or given him reason to forsake his faith. Learning to get by without her would be difficult.

In one flawless motion Robin took over for the physician, sitting carefully on the bed as the man left. The cloth was moist, and he placed the fabric against her skin, first on her forehead, then along her cheeks, providing what little relief from the fever he could. Her eyes opened in narrow slits, watching him with a small smile.

"My little bird," she whispered, "I always know your touch."

Robin smiled back at the mention of his pet-name, for she was the only one who had ever called him that. That had been years ago, of course, when he was still little. Before soon he had reached an age where he didn't want to be called it anymore, feeling far too old. Now he would give anything to hear her call him that forever, if only it meant she could stay.

"I did not wish to go this morning."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving him. "Never forsake your responsibilities. They are yours and yours alone; no one else will care for them."

"You are my responsibility, too," Robin reminded her, keeping his voice low.

"Nonsense," she laughed, her voice fading for a moment. "You be a good boy, Robin, you promise me?"

He reached up with his hand, laying it tenderly against her cheek, feeling the warmth there that seemed to have an unnatural chill. Though he was no physician, he knew already what was happening. Slowly he nodded his voice barely audible. "I promise."

The evening stretched into the night, and by the coming morning the Locksley household contained one less occupant. He hadn't left her side, and had refused both food and rest, quietly remaining with the woman he loved in her final moments. It was a blessed thing, for her death had taken her in her sleep, and her suffering had ended in a quiet manner. Yet it did not lessen his pain.

Even in the early hours of the morning, when light first streamed through the worn fabric that covered the windows, he remained, unmoving, unchanged. There was a fury building up inside of him, but it was a furnace that was choking because it had no air to feed it, and it had nowhere to go but to dwindle down and die. Robin hardly even dared to breathe, the pain so deep in his chest it felt as though he would break apart if he attempted to utter a single word.

His entire body ached, ached with the pain of the unshed tears, of the unheard cries that still dwelt inside him, brewing like a waking volcano, searching for the weakest point to break through and erupt into a torrent of emotions. Out of all the things his mother had taught him, letting go of his emotions had not been one of them.

So consumed in his grief, Robin had not even heard the door open. Nor the quiet footfalls, but he didn't flinch, or pull away as strong hands gripped him by the shoulders, moving him to his feet. He didn't want to go, it felt as though he was being forced to abandon her, and for a long, passing moment his eyes never left her face.

But the arms wrapped about him, pulling him into a strong embrace, and it was with that, the single motion, the tiniest of caring gestures, that everything broke apart in his world. And then the Lord of Locksley did something that he hadn't done since he had learnt about his father's death. He cried.

And as he cried, Thornton, the man who had been more than just a servant in his life, held him, just as he had done those many, many years ago. The two men shared in a similar grief, the loss of a life so precious, the loss of a mother, of a friend, of a truly wonderful and beautiful woman.

Yet it would not be the only loss Robin would suffer, as the Lord of Locksley would soon learn about in the years to come. In fact, his losses had only begun.

**The End**


End file.
